Chapter 6 - The Gathering of Vultures
Monday morning arrived clear and cold. The sky above the city was a pale, icy blue, washed clean by the overnight storm.
The headquarters of Vance Enterprises, a towering sixty-story skyscraper of blue glass and steel in the heart of the financial district, was buzzing with unprecedented tension. Dozens of news vans were parked outside the glass entrance, their satellite dishes pointed toward the sky. Reporters, photojournalists, and camera crews crowded behind the velvet security ropes, eager to document the dramatic fall of one of the country’s youngest billionaires.
Inside the grand boardroom on the top floor, a long oval table of polished black granite was surrounded by twenty high-backed leather chairs. The atmosphere inside was suffocatingly tense.
Uncle Martin sat near the head of the table, wearing a bespoke pinstripe suit, reviewing financial documents with an air of smug authority. Daniel sat beside him, constantly checking his gold wristwatch, nervously tapping his pen against his tablet. Vanessa sat in the guest chair near the window, dressed in an immaculate white suit, sipping an espresso with cold satisfaction.
The twenty members of the board of directors—seasoned investors, retired politicians, and venture capitalists—sat in quiet hushed conversations.
“It’s almost nine o’clock,” Martin said, standing up and clearing his throat to gain the room’s attention. “We have a quorum. As senior board member, I move that we begin this extraordinary session immediately.”
The room grew quiet.
“As you all know,” Martin continued, putting on an expression of grave solemnity, “my beloved nephew, Victor Vance, suffered a catastrophic accident last week. The medical reports indicate severe spinal trauma. He is paralyzed, permanently disabled, and currently suffering from severe psychological distress that renders him incapable of fulfilling his duties as CEO.”
A murmur ran through the board members.
“Therefore,” Martin raised his voice, gesturing toward Daniel, “Mr. Daniel Miller and I have drafted an emergency resolution. We propose stripping Victor Vance of his executive powers, appointing myself as interim CEO, and proceeding with the immediate sale of our tech patents to Apex Holdings to stabilize our falling stock price.”
“This is a dark day for Vance Enterprises,” Daniel added, standing up to back him. “But we must protect the shareholders. Victor is no longer the man he used to be. He is... broken.”
Before anyone could second the motion, the heavy double doors at the back of the boardroom clicked open.
The room fell completely silent.
Clara, wearing a simple, elegant dark gray dress instead of her maid’s uniform, pushed my wheelchair slowly into the room.
I sat in the chair, wrapped in a dark cashmere blanket, my head slightly bowed, looking frail and helpless against the cold expanse of the boardroom.
Vanessa smirked, taking a slow sip of her coffee. Martin smiled triumphantly, stepping out from behind the podium.
“Ah, Victor,” Martin said patronizingly, walking toward me with open arms. “You made it. We were just discussing your future. You really shouldn’t have burdened yourself by coming here in your... condition.”
I raised my head slowly, looking around the room at the twenty board members, at Daniel, at Vanessa, and finally at Martin.
“A CEO must always be present when his company is being stolen, Uncle Martin,” I said softly.
Martin’s smile flickered, but he quickly recovered, putting on a gentle, pitying expression for the benefit of the board. “Victor, please. You are confused. The trauma of your accident has distorted your judgment. Rest assured, we are doing this for your own good.”
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“For my good?” I asked, leaning slightly forward. “Or for the three hundred million dollars sitting in an offshore account in the Cayman Islands under the name of Apex Holdings?”
Daniel’s face instantly drained of color. He dropped his pen, staring at me in absolute horror.
